


Auld Acquaintance

by DragonTail



Series: Transformers: RID [1]
Category: Transformers (Unicron Trilogy), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonTail/pseuds/DragonTail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koji Jones was an ordinary nine-year-old boy living an ordinary nine-year-old's life... until the conference at which his mother and father were presenting was invaded by giant bio-mechanical beasts! Now Koji finds himself in a world transformed - a world of heroic Autobots and evil Terrorcons - and victim of a secret war fought long before he was born; a war that had, supposedly, been won! Now the battle begins anew...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All around him, people screamed. That wasn’t anything new for Joshua Jones – sometimes, it seemed like his whole life had been defined by raised voices. No, the screaming wasn’t anything new. What was new – what was different – was the _reason_ for the screaming.

“Dr Jones, Dr Jones!” cried one reporter. “Is the new energy source a viable alternative to fossil fuels?”

“Dr Jones!” came another voice. “How many jobs will be created through the mining of this resource?”

Those questions, and a dozen more, rang out around him. He closed his eyes, folded his arms and ignored them. Still the questions sounded until a sharp, crisp voice silenced them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, _please_!” it snapped, instantly cutting the volume by half. “This press conference is scheduled to start in just a few minutes. Your patience and understanding is appreciated.”

_Appreciated and demanded,_ Joshua thought wryly.

The media assembled within the auditorium was somewhat cowed. “Sorry, Dr Jones,” a young man said sheepishly. “Slow news day… we’re all a little antsy.”

Joshua opened his eyes and looked up, toward the foot of the stage. There stood the single most amazing person he’d ever known in his life. Almond eyes, pale skin, long black hair, a firm body on a short frame… and a brain that put the geniuses of the world to shame. His wife, Dr Misha Jones. Foremost expert on new energy sources.

He flashed her a grin. _We’ve come a long way, baby,_ he thought at her. Those perfect lips split in a wry smile of agreement. Here they were, about to announce their work to the world. Ten long years of surveying, of research, of negotiating with… foreign interests… were about to bear fruit. Not to mention four years before that of running, hiding, fighting and struggling to stay alive.

The reporters and cameramen milled around, jockeying for the best position. It wasn’t easy – there was limited space available, thanks to the spiral staircase above their heads and the circular shape of the auditorium. Misha and Joshua had chosen the city’s science centre – a giant silver geodesic dome, right on the harbour – for the press conference because of its iconic nature. They wanted this to be a memorable day.

_You deserve this, Misha,_ Joshua said silently. _And my father deserves the posthumous recognition he’s about to get. I couldn’t keep you alive, Dad, but I can make sure no one sneers at the name Atticus Jones ever again. It’s not enough… nothing ever could be… but it’s something, at least._

A touch of the old anger, the old resentment, ran up his spine. For a moment he wanted to lash out savagely, to express his fury though sudden action. As he’d done for many years, Joshua resisted it. No one had called him “Kicker” in a long time, and he wasn’t about to give anyone the excuse. That sort of behaviour was fine for a 16-year-old on the run, for a 21-year-old fighting a war. A 31-year old surveyor, husband and father needed to be just a little more mature.

Father. _I hope the brat’s recording this,_ he thought darkly. _No doubt he’s wrapped up in some game or online conversation. But surely even he can appreciate this being his Mom’s big day, though, and give it some respect._

An image of his father flashed through his mind. _Yeah, right,_ he whispered to himself. _The same sort of respect I used to give my old man, I’ll bet. Better remember to have a talk with the kid later… maybe I can convince him to come around before something bad happens. Like it did with me._

“We’re ready to begin, ladies and gentlemen,” Misha said, once again silencing the throng. “If you’ll take your seats and refer to the information folders you were given at the door, I’ll start the presentation.”

The lights dimmed, and Joshua tuned his wife out. He knew the presentation by heart, could recite it in his sleep. Misha was going to tell the journalists about a discovery made by her father-in-law, almost two decades before. About how he found a deep, rich vein of a previously unknown mineral, one that gave off harmless but potent radiation. How he, Misha and Joshua had learned how to mine it, just prior to his tragic death in a freak landmine accident. And then how the husband-and-wife team had spent the intervening years developing the means to process and refine the substance into a useable form of fuel they called Energon.

It was an entertaining lie, but a lie nonetheless.

Truthfully, Energon was extremely harmful. Fatal. It had killed his father and it had nearly killed Misha and Joshua, time and again. Not because of its radiation, but because of those who coveted it. His father had dreamed of an energy source to replace fossil fuels – in discovering it, Joshua had unleased a nightmare on his world. That bad dream was now over, thankfully, but at the cost of many lives… and good friends.

“Dr Jones.”

A journalist had spoke up, very carefully. “How many jobs do you think will be created through the Energon mining and refining process?”

Misha favoured the young man with a smile – dazzling, even in the half-light – and began her answer. Joshua grinned, banishing the gloomy memories. _That’s my wife – she’s always prepared to listen, provided you let her talk first,_ he snickered. _Maybe it’s a piece of advice I’ll share with our staff… when we have staff. It’s kept me safe from her rages._

The ground beneath his feet shuddered. Joshua looked down, perplexed. A few of the cameramen muttered quiet curses as they lost focus. He ignored them, dropping to one knee and placing his fingertips on the ground. Once again the floor shook… and continued to shake.

Joshua gulped as an all-too-familiar metallic tang filled his mouth. The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, and static electricity wreathed through his thick brown locks. Within seconds, all the hair on his head was standing straight up, as if he’d stuck his finger in a power socket. The noise of static filled his ears.

_Oh no,_ he pleaded. _No, no, no… not now, oh God, not now._

He stood up, then vaulted onto the stage. Old moves, long in disuse, came back to him so easily. The muscles of his arms and legs had never forgotten, it seemed, the training his mind so longed to erase. “Listen to me!” he shouted, cutting off another stream of questions. “All of you – we have to get out. Right now. There’s no time to explain…”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Misha staring at his hair. The look of mute horror on her face told him the story. She knew what was about to happen.

“… just grab your stuff and get out of here, as quick as you can,” he finished. Then he gasped and grabbed his ears. A high-pitched noise stabbed his eardrums and drove him to his knees. Misha was at his side instantly, holding him close. He looked up at her, tears streaming from his pained eyes, and gasped “Energon weapon”.

The western wall of the dome gave way, collapsing in on itself. Through the gloom and plaster dust, Joshua could see two impossibly large green eyes glaring. A second later, ivory fangs appeared below them, punctuated by a low, slavering growl.

Above the hideous face sat another, no less horrible visage. The cruel curve of its beak made it look like a bird, but the sickening combination of metal and flesh surrounding it left no doubt as to its alien origin. From each of its wings jutted glowing green scythes – the weapons used to cut through the silvery walls – while its golden talons gripped the shoulders of the beast below it. A creature who, now visible, was unmistakably a metallic jaguar.

“Divebomb,” Misha breathed.

“Battle Ravage,” Joshua grunted.

The nightmares of his youth had begun again.

\-----

Koji hefted the blood-stained broadsword and glared at his opponent. The three-armed Dryag was a hideous foe, but he felt no fear. Even when the mottled green beast charged him, morning stars flailing in the midday sun, he stood his ground. Koji swung the sword, hacking and slashing and parrying for all he was worth.

He chanced a step forward. The Dryag fell back. Smiling with grim determination, Koji pressed his assault. He knew full well a sword wasn’t enough to take down such a high-ranking member of the Garsaak Elite but, if he could force the creature to the edge of the cliff, he might be able to ensure its surrender.

The Dryag whoop-hollered, sensing his intent. It gnashed its tusks and bore its fangs, but still it fell back. Its hideous resolve faltered as it felt the ground disappear out from under one of its cloven feet. The beast opened its slavering mouth. “Dude, shouldn’t you be recording your Mom’s press conference?” it asked.

“Crap!” Koji shouted, leaping up from his computer chair. “Crap, crap, crap!” He bolted across to the small audio-visual set-up by his wardrobe and snatched up the remote. Quickly he found the right channel and pressed the record button. The permanent record kicked in just as the lights above his mother’s head started to dim.

“Too close,” the nine-year-old said to nobody in particular. “Really too close. Dad would have killed me.”

The Dryag stared out from the computer screen, its expression quizzical. “Did you get it? Are we in the clear?” Its child-like voice was totally unsuited for a monster.

Koji eased back into his chair and leaned toward the microphone. “We’re cool, Daniel,” he said, feigning confidence. “If Dad freaks out over me missing the reporters setting up their equipment, then he was going to freak out anyway.”

“True that,” Daniel said, slipping into their familiar banter. “Sometimes I think your old man gets a kick outta driving you up the wall. You can care too much, ya know.”

“Yeah,” Koji agreed. “You watching it?”

The Dryag nodded solemnly and Koji laughed – Daniel liked to use his RPG characters to answer for him, rather than speaking the words. When the ugly green beast gave a thumbs up and a cheesy grin, Koji chuckled so hard he almost fell off his chair.

Not for the first time, Koji realised he’d go mad without Daniel. Having a best friend was an all-too rare thing, in his experience. No one in his school understood him – _Koji the culture vulture, Koji the dreamer_ – or wanted to hang out with him. And his parents… well, that was a story in itself. So the day he and Daniel found each other through online gaming – two gifted six-year-olds beating the adults at their own swords ‘n’ sorcery hobby – they latched on, becoming a unit. They’d never met face to face (yeah, like his parents would approve _that_ little excursion) but were nevertheless closer than neighbours… than brothers. Koji knew everything about Daniel, and vice versa, and that kept the boy sane.

“She looks good up there,” Daniel said.

Koji mumbled his agreement. “Pity it’s the same stuff over and over again.”

He knew the presentation by heart. Mom had rehearsed it enough and Koji, well, he’d pretty much lived it. He’d been named after his mother’s father, a really nice guy who lived back in Japan. Still, he was expected to live his life based on the teachings of his _other_ grandfather, some hippy scientist who’d died long before he was even born. Save energy, don’t waste resources, focus on the future and blah blah blah. His Dad was _so nuts_ about that stuff it was sickening.

And _then_ there were the criticisms. It didn’t matter Koji was ahead in all of his classes, and that the teachers were praising him as “a gifted child”. As far as his folks were concerned, he could do much better – especially if he started “living in the real world”. Online games, cartoons, movies, fan fiction, cosplay… they frowned on all of his interests. And if he even dared mention finding “ a sense of adventure” in stuff like _Star Wars_ or old war comic books, look out! That was grounds for instant termination, with death delivered via Dad’s breathless, red-faced, patent-pending “war is not a game” lecture. Estimated duration: three hours.

“Maybe somebody’ll give them another grant and they can vanish for a while,” Koji sneered at the television. “You know, hire someone to watch the house… again… and leave me pretty much by myself… again… while they go dust rocks.”

“Like your seventh birthday,” Daniel offered.

“Yup. That was a good one. You sent me those old _Guyver_ tapes. Had to look everywhere to find a VCR that still worked.” Koji sighed again. “If I’d had to use a VCR to tape Mom’s shindig, I’d have missed it totally. That box is about as reliable as the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s hyper drive.”

He laughed at his own joke then furrowed his brow – there was silence at the other end of the internet connection. “Daniel?” he asked. “What’s up?”

A panicked voice replied: “Are you _looking_ at the TV, Koji?”

Hearing the urgency in his friend’s voice, Koji spun around. The images on the small screen made his jaw drop. The camerawork was shaky and the audio distorted by howls of terror, but he could clearly see _two gigantic metal beasts_ bearing down on his parents. No, not just metal… parts of their bodies were flesh. The jaguar had thick, leathery hide across its shoulder flanks and down its neck, while the condor had odd patches of feathers woven in between the steel.

As he watched, the bird leaped off the back of its partner and started… unfolding… into a more human shape. By the time it had finished, its beak had become its hands, its wings had reshaped into its legs and a red ninja-like face had risen out of newly-made shoulders.

“These humans, and their research,” the bird-thing said, its voice like ice, “now belong to the True Path.” It raised its hands, hefting a glowing, wicked-looking scythe. “Every other life here is forfeit.”

Koji blanched. “They’re gonna kill everyone,” he whispered hoarsely. “And they’re gonna take my parents. Why… what…”

“Koji, _listen to me_.”

He turned back to the computer. The Dryag was staring intensely at him, its features hard and determined. “This isn’t gonna be easy to explain, and we got no time anyway,” Daniel said, his voice sounding very different. More mature. “I can save your parents…”

“You? How can you…”

“Just _listen_ , okay? I’m about the break the rules here big time, so you’re just gonna have to keep quiet and not breathe a word of this to anyone. Understand?”

“Not really.”

Daniel sighed. “Then just trust me, okay?” he pleaded. “Turn off the television, stay away from the ‘net and wait for me to call you later. _Please_.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Save ‘em, of course. Gonna whip over there, do my thing and bring your folks home.”

Adrenalin surged through Koji. “Then you’re taking me with you.”

“Koji, I…”

“Daniel, we’re a _team_. We have been since we were kids. Well, we still are kids, you know what I mean. If you’ve got some amazing nine-year-old’s way of stopping giant robots, I wanna be in on it. And they’re _my_ parents, by the way.”

The Dryag’s face wrinkled, then its shoulders sagged. “Meet me in the alleyway down from your house in 10 minutes,” Daniel said, his tone resigned. “Look for a black car.”

“Is it your Dad’s?”

Daniel laughed mirthlessly. “Something like that.”

\-----

“This is nuts.”

Koji was nine years old, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood the sheer lunacy of what he was about to do. Here he was, waiting in an alleyway for somebody who was, really, a total stranger. A kid his own age who claimed to have some way of stopping giant transforming robots from kidnapping his parents.

It wasn’t what you might call a normal day.

Still, the natural concerns were there. He’d heard all the horror stories about Internet friendships – how paedophiles pretended to be children in order to entrap their victims. There’d been enough cases of that at his school alone to make him wary. He didn’t want to believe, however, that Daniel could be a sexual predator. Why would he wait three years before making his move? Why would he share so much of Koji’s life, rather than just stealing him away at the first opportunity? And why would he be so concerned for the welfare of Mr and Mrs Jones?

Koji shivered slightly. The sea breeze was picking up. He should have dressed more warmly – west coast summers were, sometimes, summer in name only and could more accurately be described as “non-winters”. He was about to run back to his house, grab a jersey or something, when he heard the engine.

“No way,” he breathed, recognising the sound. As Daniel promised, a black car pulled into the alleyway. But it wasn’t just a car – it was a Bugatti Veyron.

Koji the culture vulture’s eyes were bugging out. The Veyron was, quite simply, the fastest car built. Ever. A Veyron’s owner could challenge a Formula One car to a drag race, let the rival get to 120mph before setting off and still hit the 200mph mark first. The snub-nosed, amazingly stylish car topped out at an average speed of 252mph – faster than the take-off speed of some fighter jets, fast enough to lift a jumbo jet off the ground.

That distinctive noise wasn’t made by a V8 engine, but by _two_ … a W16 with seven clutches and 10 radiators. Even that only got the mad engineers to 360mph, and they wanted the gauges to genuinely be able to reach 400kph. That’s where the body design came into play – smaller door mirrors, spoilers and a bullet-like sleekness that would put most superhero vehicles to shame.

The Veyron could even _change shape_ to suit its current speed. At the twist of a key, its nose lowered and its spoiler spread to keep you on the road as you accelerated past all previous barriers. The driver wouldn’t be able to take any corners – or stop on a dime – but they would be travelling at 370ft a second.

The magic 400mph.

Koji had _always_ wanted to ride in one – it had been his first selection in every car-racing video game he’d ever played. And it was all because of a review he’d read on an old website, long ago. _“From behind the wheel of a Veyron, France is the size of a small coconut,_ its author had gushed. _I cannot tell you how fast I crossed it the other day. Because you simply wouldn’t believe me. I also cannot tell you how good this car is. I just don’t have the vocabulary. I just end up stammering and dribbling and talking wide-eyed nonsense. And everyone thinks I’m on drugs.”_

Despite the desperation of his parent’s situation, he couldn’t stop himself shaking with excitement. It was the adventurer in him. He also couldn’t believe Daniel had never told him that his family owned a Veyron – he knew how much Koji worshipped the car.

That amazing engine noise dropped to an idle, and the passenger-side door swung open. “Get in,” called Daniel’s voice. “We got no time at all.”

_Not that it’ll matter in a Bugatti,_ Koji thought wryly. _It’s so fast, we’ll get there before we’ve actually left._

Grinning broadly, he slid into the plush, deep seating… and froze. Behind the wheel, looking at him gravely, sat a tall, lithe, athletic-looking African American. There was no nine-year-old boy in the car and, when the man opened his mouth to speak, Daniel’s voice came from his throat. “Hang on,” he said as the doors locked and Koji’s seatbelt, seemingly with a mind of its own, strapped him down.

The man with the child’s voice stamped on the accelerator and the Veyron thundered to life. Even then, the engine sound couldn't drown out Koji’s scream of terror.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bugatti Veyron hurtled around the corner. Koji risked a glance at the speedometer: 398mph. Impossible, even for the style of car in which he was trapped.

Again, he tugged at the seatbelt. It was fruitless – the sash, like the door locks, was immovable. He shifted and squirmed, contemplating a new bout of fearful screaming. Not that it would do him any good, of course, but it might make some impression on his captor… someone who, until a few moments ago, he’d thought of as his best friend.

“If you’re thinking about screaming again,” Daniel said without looking over, “do us both a favour and _don’t_. Ain’t no need – I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For three years, Koji had carried on an internet friendship with Daniel, whom be believed to be a fellow nine-year-old geek. Then his parents had been attacked, at a press conference, by giant robotic animals. Daniel had offered to rescue them. That’s when Koji discovered his friend was a fully-grown African American man – with shaved head and goatee, to boot – with a top-of-the-line car and the voice of a little kid. To say Koji was freaked out of his mind was the grossest of understatements.

The Veyron rounded another corner at yet another impossible speed. “How are you doing this?” Koji blubbered. “The car… it can’t…”

“The car? Oh yeah, right,” Daniel said, sounding like he’d slapped his own forehead for stupidity. “Koji, I’m really sorry. I understand how scared you are right now – listening to this voice coming outta this face – but you have to understand something. As wiggy as things are right now, they’re _about to get even worse_.”

Koji gulped.

Through the windscreen, he could see the geodesic science centre looming. Daniel decelerated, bringing the car back to normal street speeds and into the monorail station’s parking lot. “Get out,” he said, without turning around, “and take a seat. Trust me – you’re gonna want to be sitting down for what comes next.”

He didn’t argue. He half-stumbled, half-fell out of the plush interior and landed, on his knees, outside the car. Somehow, the door closed itself behind him. Koji didn’t hear the driver’s door open but, as if right in his ear, he heard Daniel say: “Be with you in a sec.”

What Koji saw terrified and fascinated him in equal amounts.

The Bugatti shuddered like a living thing and rose in mid-air. But it wasn’t levitating – two massive, metallic legs had swung down from beneath it. As Koji watched, feet unfurled from the black shins, and hydraulic knees flexed under white thighs. Then the hood and engine bay broke free from the rest of the car and swung around, as the doors angled upward at 45 degrees. Arms fell from behind the doors – one brandishing the roof and front window like a shield – while a head flipped up and fastened itself to the exposed dashboard. Its face was partly obscured by its gold and black helm, and by the emerald visor across its eyes. The parts Koji could see, however, were smiling benevolently as if trying to keep him calm and reassured.

With a slight whine of perfectly synched servomotors, the giant dropped to one knee and extended its right hand. “Hi,” it said brightly in a deep, masculine voice. “The name’s Crosswise… but all my friends call me Jazz. Man, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you after all these...”

Koji whirled in a circle, but there was no one around. The robot had somehow managed to pick a completely empty patch of city in which to… well, to transform from a car. After the way the Veyron had taken those corners, he shouldn’t have found this surprising. “What happened to Daniel?” he demanded.

The robot… Jazz… pulled his hand back. A pained expression crossed his steel features. “You really don’t remember me,” he said mournfully. “Downshift was right – your processor wasn’t advanced enough, at that stage, to form lasting memories.” Beneath the visor, its eyes bunched. “Dammit.”

“ _What happened to Daniel?_ ”

“Huh?” Jazz came back to the present. “Oh, um… well, Daniel was me. And the guy in the seat? Well, he didn’t really exist and I figured using my Daniel voice would put you at ease. Guess that wasn’t the best tune I’ve spun lately, hey?”

The sound of breaking glass echoed across the parking lot, followed by a woman’s scream. _Mom!_ Koji thought, and started to run toward the science centre.

He’d made it less than 100m before the ground started vibrating beneath his feet. Jazz overtook him in three steps and scooped him up with golden hands. “Faster this way,” he said, setting Koji on his left shoulder and breaking into a run. Jazz vaulted the intersection and dashed toward the silver sphere. “Hold on,” he cried, raising the shield to protect both Koji and his face. “They don’t make doors big enough for dudes like me!”

Koji winced, feeling the force of the impact and the trickles of wall fragments falling around him. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light within the building – the projector was still on, displaying an Energon presentation slide – and he scanned for his mother. She was on the southern side of the main hall, fending the jaguar off with a camera’s tripod assembly.

“Mom!” he called.

She glanced at him. “Koji?” she said, her tone thick with panic and disbelief. “Jazz?”

_Jazz? How the heck does my Mom know a giant Bugatti robot?_

“Jazz, get the hell over here!” That was his Dad, of all people, referring to the robot by name. “Divebomb’s got some of the reporters bailed up!”

“On it, Kicker,” Jazz replied, again dropping to one knee and depositing Koji on the ground. He reached around behind himself, his hand returning with a nasty-looking t-shaped gun. It was actually the Veyron’s spoiler, transformed into a sawed-off shotgun. He heard a ratcheting noise and looked up to see two missile launchers flip up from Jazz’s shoulders and settle on either side of his head. “Well and _truly_ on it.”

The robot pulled the gun’s trigger, and a long jet of blue-green flame leaped from its barrel. The blaze moved with a mind of its own, soaring across the heads of the terrified reporters and wreathing around the condor-robot. It yelped as fiery tongues scalded its armour, then fixed Jazz with a malevolent glare.

“Aw, how sweet – the Autobots come to save their squidgy little pink friends,” it squawked. “Such a shame the little hero-mech is much too busy to get in our way.” The robot stooped its shoulders and hunched down, then straightened up. Its right arm whipped up toward the roof and, too late, Koji noticed its glowing green weapon. The twin-bladed device crashed into the very top of the sphere and collapsed it, bringing masses of debris hurtling down.

Jazz muttered something unintelligible and threw himself forward, raising the shield. A pulse of energy erupted from it, radiating outward and blanketing a large area. The plummeting wreckage bounced off the force field and away from the dazed reporters beneath it.

“This is not going well,” Jazz scolded, casting a derisive eye over the awestruck media. “The big ‘bot will have my skid plate for this mess, I just know it.”

“Shift it into gear and he won’t have to know,” Koji’s father snapped back. “One EMP will wipe the cameras and urban legends only go so far – you know that. But if these bastards get Misha and I…”

Jazz’s face darkened. “They won’t,” he growled, and loosed four tiny missiles from his shoulder launchers.

Koji threw himself to the floor, bracing for the explosions. They didn’t come. Instead, the small golden projectiles split tracks – two headed for the jaguar, two for the one called Divebomb – and detonated in mid-air. Hundreds of thin wires sprang from the casings and buried themselves in the robots. A moment later, electric current arced through them.

Jazz whooped victoriously, punching the air with his fist. Even Koji’s Dad looked relieved, especially once his mother scampered to safety. But the other two robots hesitated only briefly. Divebomb straightened up and clipped the wires with his beak-like hands while the jaguar tensed and uncoiled, sending the sparking threads in all directions.

The jaguar growled something, low and vicious.

“Flesh alone is the weakest of all, metal no stronger,” Divebomb said, as if translating. “Balance is the way, the melding of two words – to be all flesh, or all metal, is to be prey.” He flexed a leg in Jazz’s direction. “Like the new look, Autobot scum?”

Jazz glared, bearing his teeth. “Transmetal,” he spat. “You’re disgusting.”

“We’re the future,” Divebomb replied smugly. “Battle Ravage, myself… we’re just the start of an upgrade the entire _universe_ needs so desperately. An upgrade that we’ll pursue aggressively as soon as your friends are safely with us.”

“No!” Jazz yelled, raising his weapon. Battle Ravage was on him in a second, and he vanished in a hail of biting claws and slashing teeth. He heard the black robot cry out in pain just before the muffled report of the flame-thrower. Blue-green light flared for a moment and then died out, and the jaguar laughed.

A firm hand gripped Koji’s shoulder. “Get back here,” his father snapped, pulling him behind a ruined display case. “You’ve got some explaining to do, kid.”

Koji was about to argue, but saw the look in his father’s eyes. Both his parents were smeared with ash and plaster dust, their fancy clothes torn and soiled. His mother’s skirt was split up one side, and both her shoes were missing. His father’s shirt was ripped open, hinting at a physique Koji didn’t realise the older man possessed. They didn’t look like his parents anymore. They looked like adventurers… warriors… and the boy suddenly realised he knew next to nothing about the people raising him.

“So do you,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “Cars that turn into robots and snatch kids off the streets? Robots, I might add, you’re on a first-name basis with. And who the heck are those other two?”

Joshua Jones frowned, his face flushing red. Misha silenced him with a look. “Koji, there’s a lot to explain – on both sides – but now’s not the time. Did Jazz bring you here?”

The boy nodded.

Misha looked at her husband. “Battle protocol,” she said simply.

Joshua nodded. “Like we really have a choice,” he groused. He reached down and thumbed his belt buckle – the piece of metal slipped to one side, revealing a strange design. It looked, to Koji, like a blue crystal set inside a twin-handled, silver vessel. Joshua pressed two fingers to the orb and it depressed slightly. “Battle protocol,” he whispered hoarsely. “Autobots in need of assistance.”

“Dad?” Koji asked.

His father held up a hand for silence. “I repeat, Autobots in need of assistance,” he continued. “RID units please respond at this location.”

He paused, obviously waiting for something. A moment later, a new voice emanated from the buckle. “Voice print confirmed, Kicker,” it said, sounding like a teenage girl. “Request for battle protocol received. Unit four at your location, also requiring assistance. No other units within immediate vicinity.”

His father swore. “Broaden call, four sectors.”

“Broadening. Scanning…” The voice was silent for a moment. “Units two, three, five and six beyond sector scan. Unit seven confined to base as per standing orders.” It paused again. “Unit one within specified range, battle protocol initiated.”

“Thank God,” Misha whispered. “If there’s only one around, at least it’s _him_.”

“Jazz!” Kicker called over the display. “Big ‘bot incoming!”

Koji looked around the shattered case – Jazz had fought his way free of Battle Ravage’s assault and was retaliating with fists and feet. “Praise Primus,” he grinned, and Koji caught the sarcasm in his tone. “Now he can thump these jerks and me all at once.”

“You save us, and he’ll have to get through me first,” Joshua replied. He looked at his wife. “I’m going to have to run interference until the big guy gets here,” he said solemnly, and Misha nodded. She gripped Koji by the shoulders and pulled him slightly back, whispering that he should close his eyes. Joshua stood up straight, his right hand posed over the belt buckle. “I could have sworn I said I’d never do this again,” he said bitterly, and slapped his palm against the twin-handled orb.

The air around him shimmered and _ripped_ , revealing two swathes of twinkling blackness. From the voids erupted pieces of ivory and obsidian armour. It latched onto his body while a visored, full-faced helmet enveloped his head. A red insignia was embossed onto the armour’s left breast plate. It looked a little like a face, but was composed of harsh angles. Koji realised it matched the ruby ornament on Jazz’s hood.

“Stay here,” Joshua said to them. His voice was almost unrecognisable – Koji wondered if it was being electronically distorted by the helmet. “I love you both.”

He sprang away, far faster and further than a human being should be able. From his back he snatched a thin white tube – in his hand, it ignited into a double-bladed laser sword. Koji blinked, twice, as his father jumped onto Battle Ravage’s back and started hacking into the vicious robot.

“Anything you want to tell me?” he asked his mother in a deadpan voice.

“You’re not adopted,” she quipped, and hugged him tight. “God… it’s so dangerous right now, but part of me is glad you’re here, baby.”

“Mom, how do you know Jazz? How does he know us? I thought he was my online friend, Daniel, but now…”

Misha gave her son a sad smile. “Baby,” she whispered, ruffling his hair. “There’s so much to tell you – so much we _should_ have told you, well before now. But your father… well, you know what he’s like. He felt the Transformer civil war had done enough damage to our family, and he didn’t want you swept up in it, too.”

“Transformer civil war?” Koji asked.

His mother explained. About Autobots, Decepticons and Mini-cons. About Energon, and how his grandfather _really_ died. About Unicron and Planet Keys, alien worlds and hidden skirmishes on Earth. And as he listened, entranced, to all the details of a universe beyond his imagining, his father and his online friend fought for their lives against a pair of vicious beasts.

His mouth was dry. “And Jazz?”

“He was there when you were born,” Misha said. “Newly-arrived on Earth after years fighting behind Decepticon lines on Cybertron.” A wistful look crossed her face. “He was so _excited_ about everything to do with Earth, and humans, that he was like a big kid. Jazz was the first of the Autobots to hold you, after I’d given birth, and I think he appointed himself your protector that very moment.

“We stayed with the Autobots until just after your second birthday, and you and Jazz were inseparable. When we decided to research Energon properly, to go public with it and help the world, some of the Autobots disagreed. They argued with your father, he argued back and, well…” her expression grew sad. “There are words you say in the heat of the moment you can never take back, no matter how much you wish you could.

“That’s when we left. Jazz took it the hardest – your personality was really developing, and the two of you were interacting on such a deep level. I suppose you wouldn’t even remember him now.”

_You really don’t remember me. Downshift was right – your processor wasn’t advanced enough, at that stage, to form lasting memories._

Koji suddenly felt very, very callous.

“When you met Daniel online, I half-suspected what was happening. Jazz was always the most switched-on of the Autobots… if anyone could find an unobtrusive way of staying in touch with you, without your father knowing, it was the retired espionage agent.” Misha sighed heavily. “He brought you here out of friendship, and maybe because he wanted you, at long last, to know the truth.” She hugged him close again. “I’m not mad about that, Koji. But I want you to do something for me. If anything happens to us…”

“Mom!”

“If _anything_ happens, stay close to Jazz,” she said, her face etched with pain. “He’ll look after you, and you can trust him. I know you’re confused right now, sweetie, but the only difference between Jazz and ‘Daniel’ are the bodies wrapped around them. They’re the same person – they always have been – and he’s still your best friend. If I can’t be there to protect you, then I trust Jazz to do it for me. Understand?”

Hot, stinging tears welled in Koji’s eyes. He nodded, furiously trying to shake them away.

“Misha!” Joshua was yelling at them. “Move!”

Koji was lifted bodily off the ground again, this time by his mother. Tucking him under her arm, she sprinted away from the display. Just behind them, Battle Ravage’s paw slammed into the ground – had they not moved, they’d have been squashed. Koji could see his father gripping tightly onto a camera-like assembly running down the centre of the big cat’s head. “He’s still wired for transmission,” Joshua snarled. “Problem?”

“Big problem,” Jazz replied, snapping off a pair of shots at Divebomb. “Considering we had _no freaking idea_ there were any ‘cons on Earth, let alone the Terrorcons, until this very moment, Primus only knows who’s watching!”

“I thought the Terrorcons disappeared after the battle of Iacon?” Joshua grunted, gripping with his thighs as Battle Ravage tried to throw him off.

“Give the man a gold star,” Jazz said, dodging one of his opponent’s blasts. “Ain’t nobody seen them since – and they sure as slag weren’t this _powerful_ back then! Time was I’d have been able to take down all four of them by myself.”

“They got better with Predacon calling the shots,” Joshua said. He drove his energy blade into the fleshy part of Battle Ravage’s shoulder, and the beast howled in pain. “They were never this technorganic, were they?”

“Predacon,” Jazz spat. “That freak job would staple an intestine to a star cruiser if he thought it would go faster.”

Koji ducked under a bench and crawled in, tight, next to his mother. His father’s lectures made a lot more sense to him now. They way Joshua was moving, fighting, _commanding_ the situation… what his mother had said about Grandpa Atticus, and the discovery of the Mini-cons… it was like his Dad had been fighting a war his entire life. Small wonder he had no time for science fiction and role-playing. _Too much like real life… Dad’s real life._

An explosion rocked the auditorium. Debris bounced around them and caromed off the bench. Koji saw his father sail through the air and slam into a batch of displays, shattering glass and crushing coral, gears and other exhibits. On the other side of the room, Jazz’s legs were sticking out of a broken aquarium, flailing in a mess of suffocating fish and messy seaweed. In the centre of it all, Battle Ravage was growling, the large cannons on his back leaking smoke. Divebomb, once again looking like a condor, was atop his back and cackling with pleasure.

“All metal equals prey, Jazz,” he guffawed, “as does all flesh, Kicker.” He cast a glowing red eye over the battlefield. “Maybe once Predacon’s finished with you and your wife, he’ll let Battle Ravage and me skin you for an upgrade!”

Divebomb flapped his wings and took to the air, soaring across to Joshua. Battle Ravage sniffed the air and grinned, all fangs. He stalked unerringly toward Koji’s hiding place, making his mother stiffen with fear. _This can’t happen,_ Koji told himself. _In the movies, in the games, there’s always a way out. Always someone else to help._ His stomach sank. _This isn’t a movie or a game, though_.

Battle Ravage’s thunderous footfalls almost drowned out another sound – that of a powerful engine, drawing ever closer. Koji heard his mother breathe a sigh of relief, saw her look past the shattered walls to the road outside.

The truck by the cavernous opening wasn’t big, it was _massive_. The white cab seemed to dwarf nearby buildings, and its long grey trailer looked like it could _carry_ buildings. An armoured blue bumper stretched across the bottom of the cab. In its centre was a golden symbol, huge and bold. It was the same insignia on Joshua’s armour, on Jazz’s hood… the Autobot symbol, Koji decided.

The cab detached and lifted into the air, propelled by small jet boosters. Pieces of the trailer fell away and folded back as the whole assembly split down the middle. Each section rose, forming powerful legs, while the cab transformed into a torso, arms and wings. A proud head rose up and locked into place. Its face – strong, friendly, determined, _uncompromising_ – was surrounded by a blue helm. The Autobot symbol was embossed into its forehead.

“Ultra Magnus,” his mother whispered into his ear. “We’re safe now.”

With one step, the behemoth was inside the building and between them and Battle Ravage. The jaguar snarled, but its tone was concerned… fearful. Ultra Magnus responded to the challenge by raising an incredibly long, multi-barrelled rifle and levelling it at the Terrorcon.

“I believe you were just about to leave,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Battle Ravage lowered his head to the ground, flattening his paws and forelegs. His hind legs quivered with nervous energy while his mace-like tail whipped through the air. He growled again, that same concerned tone. Halfway across the auditorium, Divebomb translated.

“Frelling hack,” he whimpered.

Ultra Magnus wasted no time. His right hand twitched, jerking the immense rifle’s crimson trigger. A hail of bullets flew from the multiple barrels and slammed into Battle Ravage. The cat was lifted off its feet, the force of the impacts driving him back. He rolled, collided with a squawking Divebomb and sent them both thudding into the western wall. There they lay, dazed, right next to the very gap they’d created upon entry.

That was all the encouragement the gathered media needed. As one, they ran toward the eastern entrance. Just as fearful, confused and freaking out of his mind, Koji nevertheless smiled. He got the distinct impression Ultra Magnus was the sort of… being… who gave one warning, and one warning only.

“Misha,” the juggernaut called, his commanding voice echoing in the sudden silence. “Are you and the boy all right?”

“We are,” Koji’s mother replied, “but Joshua and Jazz caught the brunt of an explosion just before you arrived. They might be hurt.”

Magnus didn’t reply. Keeping his gun carefully trained on the bestial duo, he crab-walked across to Koji’s father. He reached out and, with two fingers, picked the largest of the wreckage off Joshua.

The older man stirred, groaned, and clambered out from under the rest of the debris. “I’d forgotten how much that hurts,” he groused. “And how ugly these guys are.”

“They’ve gotten uglier,” Magnus said curtly. “The last time we saw them was at Iacon, and they weren’t technorganic then.” He frowned, warping the steel above his eyes and nose. “Grimlock’s spent the better part of a decade wondering what happened to his old playmates,” he mused. “Looks like they’ve been upgraded.”

“That’s what they were calling it, anyway,” came another voice. Jazz was back on his feet, brushing bits from ceiling off his thick black bodywork. “And they were spouting some nonsense about ‘the True Path’, too. Make any sense to you?”

“Some,” Magnus nodded. “Intelligence reports from the deep-cover agent suggested Predacon had started a religion based on his strange beliefs. Could be that’s the name he chose for his…”

He stopped abruptly and, almost faster than Koji could see, fired again. He blanketed the western wall with shells, but was too late. Divebomb had taken to the air, pulling Battle Ravage along with him.

“No way,” Jazz breathed. “Ain’t no way they could’ve recovered _that_ fast!”

Divebomb’s only response was a haunting laugh. He opened his talons and allowed Battle Ravage to fall – right on top of Ultra Magnus. The jaguar hissed, digging his serrated fore-claws into either side of the bigger robot’s head. He planted his hind paws on Magnus’ chest and heaved, pulling his enemy down toward the ground. At the last possible second, Battle Ravage let go and sprang to one side, leaving Magnus to plough face-first into the floor. The entire science centre shook as he landed.

“Argh,” Joshua said dryly. Koji could imagine the look on his father’s face despite the helmet that obscured it. “Guess even the most un-bending tree falls eventually, huh?”

Jazz grabbed him by the collar. “This ain’t no time for old grudges, Kicker,” he snapped, raising his flamethrower and firing on Battle Ravage. “We got a situation here!”

“So do we,” Misha gasped, pushing in front of Koji. Over her shoulder he could see Divebomb’s angled face, snapping and jabbing toward them. The bird-bot was screeching so loud that Koji’s ears bled. Tears welled in his eyes – he tried to clamp down on them, but they would not be denied. _I’m going to die,_ he thought. _They’re going to take my parents, and then they’re going to kill me. I’m going to die under a bench in a science centre!_

The metal beast snapped again, then made an odd, strangled noise. Koji blinked through his tears and saw Ultra Magnus looming up behind them all. He had Divebomb by the tail feathers – the organic tail feathers – and was pulling back on them. The Terrorcon squawked again, trying to ignore the pain, and lost his footing. His talons scrabbled for purchase on the ruined flooring but it was far too late. Magnus stood up, holding the bird upside-down, and slammed him into a wall. Keeping firm grip of the tail, he slapped the bird against the side of the building time and again until the feathers tore loose and Divebomb collapsed to the ground.

“Feather duster,” the big robot quipped, opening his hand to let the plumes flutter away.

Misha crawled out from under the bench, urging Koji to follow her. “Our car’s outside,” she gasped.

“Go,” Magnus replied. “We’ll cover you from in here. Kicker can…”

He never finished the sentence. Divebomb hurtled through the air and crashed into him, transforming mid-impact. His beak became hands that slashed at the Autobot, driving him back and away from Koji and Misha. Using his forearms, Magnus blocked many of the blows, wincing at those that connected. “What the frell does it take to keep you down, Divebomb?”

“More than you have onboard, mechanical scum,” the Terrorcon sneered. “Like I told your flunkies over there, we’re the future. The strength of steel, the healing abilities of flesh. Our iron bones re-knit, our armour scabs over and grows back. You can keep your nanites and CR chambers, fool – we are the _balance_ , the _way_ , the Path to evolution!”

Magnus growled and reached out, catching both of Divebomb’s hands in his own. “You also talk too much,” he snarled, and drove his head into the mocking face. The bird-bot reeled, and Magnus pressed the assault with two more head butts. With a gurgle, Divebomb went slack. The Autobot dropped him but paused, staring.

Koji followed his gaze. The deep dents were already starting to straighten out, as if a thousand invisible panel beaters were working overtime. “Healing abilities of flesh,” he whispered.

“Transmetal technology,” Magnus said. “They’ve perfected it. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.” He grinned wryly. “Just as well you can always count on Divebomb to shoot his mouth off, otherwise it would have been months before we figured out their secret.”

He tapped one finger to the side of his head. “Jazz,” he said softly. Koji realised he was talking on a radio frequency. “You and Kicker bring the feline over this way, quick as you can. We’ll need the big gun to finish them off.”

Koji looked up at the looming robot. “Big guns?” he asked, incredulous. “There are larger robots than you?”

Magnus shook his head. “Not big guns,” he replied, stooping down and reclaiming his mighty weapon. “Big _gun._ Get clear, and fast.”

This time, Koji didn’t need his mother’s encouragement. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the remains of the eastern wall, in the direction of the parking lot and of their car. _We’re not going to die,_ he thought as the tears started again. _Big robots are looking after us. They’re bigger and tougher and faster than the other ones. We’ll be fine, we’ll be fine… absolutely fine._

He risked a glance over his shoulder. His father and Jazz had taken up positions on either side of Ultra Magnus. Battle Ravage was standing across Divebomb, who was already supporting himself on one arm and shaking off the effects of the last attack. _They can’t stop them,_ Koji thought. _Why don’t they just run?_

“It’s all right,” his mother said, slowing down and turning to watch.

“Mom,” Koji pleaded. “He said to run, to get out of here. We’ve got to…”

“It’s all right,” she said again, soothing his hair with one hand. “Look.”

The air above Ultra Magnus’ head rippled like a heat mirage. Blue light flickered, then spun together to form an azure disc. One side was shaped like a key, while the rest of its diameter was bordered with golden carvings. When he squinted, Koji could see a design on the centre of the object – a pictogram showing the sun rising over the Earth.

The key hung in mid-air for a moment and then slotted into Magnus’ gun, just below the targeting sight. The weapon’s barrel split and swung out at right angles, while the sight and the missile launcher below it turned 90-degrees. Koji saw the single barrel had become two – one a mini-gun, the other a cannon – each with its own stock. Magnus hefted the altered gun as his shoulders opened up, allowing the stocks to fasten to his very body. The gun locked into place with a loud _click_ , and the min-gun’s chambers began to spin.

Magnus wrapped his hands into the dual red trigger grips and squeezed, loosing an intense, blinding volley of artillery. The mini-gun spewed long, pointed bullets and flechette rounds while the cannon hurtled blue bolts of energy into the air. The Terrorcons were caught dead centre of the maelstrom, their howls barely audible over the noise of the horrifying weapon. Magnus waited a second more then flicked his wrists, twisting the trigger grips out horizontal. The two ivory missiles shuddered to life and plunged into the heart of the firestorm, detonating with devastating impact.

Koji opened his mouth to speak, but could not. It was one thing to watch this sort of destruction in a cartoon, on a movie, through a video game… but seeing it in the real world was another thing entirely. He felt sick. Divebomb and Battle Ravage wanted to kill him, to hurt his parents, but they were still _living beings_. He took no pleasure in their deaths.

One look at Magnus’ face… at the expressions on the faces of Jazz and his father… told Koji he wasn’t alone in his sentiment.

“Come on,” Misha said softly. “Let’s go. Your Dad will catch up with us later.”

Koji nodded, still feeling numb. He took a few steps forward, allowing his mother to pull him along. They made it out of the science centre and down the short flight of steps, back to street level. He could hear sirens in the distance; somehow, the familiar sound gave him a sense of comfort. The strangeness was behind him, back in the geodesic dome. Outside it, the real world went on as normal.

A passing car pulled up alongside them. “Man, are you guys okay?” its driver called. Koji couldn’t see the man behind the gold-tinted windows. “You look really messed up!”

“We’re okay,” Misha said, now dropping behind Koji and pushing him on. “Thanks for your concern.”

The car kept pace with them. “Yeah, really messed up,” the unseen driver said earnestly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were both attacked by a pair of vicious cybernetic animals determined to turn you over to their insightful, charismatic, wondrous leader!”

Misha’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth – but it was too late. Thin lines appeared on the bodywork of the car and it cracked open, transforming into a robot. This one was only a little larger than a human – seven feet tall, perhaps eight – and had a stylised letter “m” carved into its chest. It snatched Misha with one hand and pushed Koji aside with the other, then changed form again. Before the boy could react, the robot was one again a car. Koji could hear his mother inside, screaming, but could do nothing save watch as the car squealed its tyres and sped off around the corner and out of sight.

Seconds passed. Jazz was soon by his side but Koji barely registered. He’d dropped to his knees, hyperventilating, gasping for breath. He felt his father’s armoured hands grip his shoulders, heard his voice urging him to slow down, to get control.

“Skid-Z,” Magnus said from somewhere above him. “Had to be. Dammit.”

“Predacon’s weedy little Mini-con friend,” Jazz spat. “I should have checked the area.”

“You should have done a lot of things, solider,” Magnus snapped threateningly, “starting with issuing a battle protocol _before_ engaging the enemy. There’s a reason we run the RID units like we do, Jazz. There are rules.”

“Do those rules include taking children into a war zone?” Joshua demanded. Dimly, Koji registered his father’s voice had returned to normal – he must have removed his helmet. “There’s a brilliant idea! Bad enough the kid loses his mother to the blasted Terrorcons, let alone him having to watch it happen!”

“There was a time,” Magnus said stiffly, “you wanted us to protect your family, to keep them close.”

“Stop living in the _past_. That ‘time’ was a heck of a lot of years, and you know it. You’re not dragging me back into this crazy war of yours, and you’re sure as hell not telling me you were right!”

“So it’s a coincidence, then, that the Terrorcons reappear _after 10 years_ on the same day you use Energon to make yourself famous?”

Koji stood up. “Stop it!” he shouted, his voice ragged and harsh. “Just stop it!”

His father and the robot fell silent.

“I have no idea about any of the stuff I’ve seen today,” Koji said darkly, “but my Mom is gone. A _car_ turned into a _person_ and _took my mother away_! All I want to know is: when are you two going to stop arguing and do something about it?”

Joshua looked ashen. Awkwardly, he put one arm around his son. “It’s okay, little man,” he said, trying to embrace the rigid, shaking boy. “The Terrorcons aren’t going to hurt your Mom. They took her, which means they want something from her. We’ll call in the other RID units and find her, no sweat. She’ll be back before you know it.” He dropped to one knee and looked Koji in the eyes. “Okay?”

Koji sniffed, wiping his ruddy nose on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

“That’s my boy.” Joshua stood back up. “Back to the base to gather the troops?”

Magnus nodded. “They can be called back quick enough. And if we load those idiots,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “into my trailer, I’m sure Downshift can reverse-engineer some kind of tracking device that homes in on technorganic life forms.”

“Knowing him, all he’ll need is a yard of wire, some chewing gum and a rusty tin bathtub,” Jazz chuckled.

“Autobots,” called a voice. “Over here.”

The group froze. Koji found himself mesmerised by the sight. Before them stood another Transformer, taller than Jazz but shorter than Ultra Magnus. Broad wings spread from its shoulders, casting odd shadows on its purple and olive bodywork. What caught his attention most, though, was the gemstone on the crest of the newcomer’s helm. A tiny light glowed within it, capturing all of the smaller robot’s attention. It was _so_ beautiful, set into the golden metal and all, with the slash of ruby red beneath it.

And because of the gem, it made perfect sense that his Dad would walk over to the strange robot and deactivate his armour. It was completely understandable that, once the robot had turned into a huge military transport plane, his Dad would board it without question. Koji was even _glad_ , in that sleepy and peaceful way, that Divebomb and Battle Ravage had recovered enough to limp aboard the plane.

That the plane, as it flew away, had scaly, purple, bat-like wings? Why raise issue?

Koji calmly watched the plane soar away… and then gasped as his senses returned. It felt like all the air in the world had rushed into his lungs, all at once, and he fell down. With a scraping noise, Jazz landed next to him. Magnus wobbled but remained upright. “Who the Unicron was that?” he roared furiously.

“Beats me,” Jazz slurred, “but he just pulled one heck of a mind wipe on us.”

“And on my Dad,” Koji said, mournfully. “He just…he just went _with_ him.”

Magnus crouched down next to the boy – no mean feat, given his stature. “Koji,” he said gently, “I’m sorry. Your father wasn’t in his right mind. That Terrorcon… whoever he was… somehow affected the impulses reaching our processors and your brain.”

“Hypnosis,” Jazz added. “You know, like on those magic shows we’d watch?”

 _We_. The word made Koji’s stomach turn. He leaned forward and retched, losing his lunch over the pavement. Jazz moved to help him, but Magnus held him back. “Leave him be,” the Autobot said, sternly but not unkindly. “Give him time.”

On hands and knees, Koji tried to stop the spinning in his head. His best friend was really a giant robot. His parents were retired soldiers from an intergalactic civil war. His father had helped bring that war to Earth; his grandfather had been murdered by one side even though he was an innocent. His mother had been kidnapped, his father brainwashed, and the cars on the street and the planes in the sky couldn’t be trusted. His parents were _gone_ , he was alone and helpless and…

 _If_ anything _happens, stay close to Jazz. He’ll look after you, and you can trust him. I know you’re confused right now, sweetie, but the only difference between Jazz and ‘Daniel’ are the bodies wrapped around them. They’re the same person – they always have been – and he’s still your best friend. If I can’t be there to protect you, then I trust Jazz to do it for me. Understand?_

His mother’s words. She trusted Jazz. Trusted him with her most prized possession – Koji. He knew his mother, especially how over-protective she was. Misha had banned him from the school camp because the bus taking them there didn’t have seatbelts. She hadn’t let him eat peanuts until he was seven, just in case of allergies. There was no way a woman like that would tell her son to place his fate in the hands of a giant robot if she didn’t trust him implicitly.

Koji stood up and walked across to Jazz. He stumbled the last few steps, clinging onto the robots leg and weeping openly. Jazz reached down and scooped him up. He cupped the boy in his hands and held him close to his scorched, pock-marked chest. “It’s okay, buddy,” he crooned, one golden finger stroking Koji’s hair. “I know this ain’t making no sense to you but trust me – we’ll get ‘em back. Right, Magnus?”

The bigger robot leaned in. “Definitely,” he said. “In the meantime, is there anywhere we can take you? Anyone with whom you could stay?”

Koji took a deep breath and composed himself. _Stop crying,_ he thought angrily. _You’re no help to anyone if you’re bawling like a baby. You’re nine years old – act like it! Be the guy with the broadsword, not the kid with the computer._

“No,” he sniffled, “not really. My Mom’s father is in Japan. My Dad has a sister, Sally, but I don’t know where she is. I’ve only met her once and she and my Dad, well…”

“They argued,” Magnus said, a tone of resignation in his voice. “I’m hardly surprised.” He started to say something else, but Jazz elbowed him and he fell silent.

“Then you’ll come with us,” Jazz said. “Back to the base, until we can find your aunt or figure something else out. Back to where you were born.” He grinned. “Can’t he, Big Bot?”

The sirens sounded even closer. Soon, the area would be swarming with police. Magnus sighed audibly. “We don’t have another choice,” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

“Holographic wall, right?”

They’d slipped the police net by minutes. Koji still wasn’t really sure how they’d managed to. He was still out of it – _still crying like a little baby_ – when Magnus had tossed a silver sphere over his shoulder. The device had exploded noiselessly, and Koji’s watch had stopped working, and then Magnus had said it was time to leave.

Jazz had curled back up into a Bugatti and opened his passenger side door. “Jump in, buddy,” he’d said, soothingly. “It’ll be a nicer ride this time, I promise.” Koji had blanched at the suggestion. No matter what his mother thought – _had thought_ – Jazz was still the guy who’d been lying to him for three years. He’d asked to ride with Magnus instead.

The bigger robot obliged instantly, breaking apart and reshaping into a giant car carrier. “It’ll be best if you ride with me, too,” he’d told Jazz, dropping his rear ramps. “That EMP will have wiped all the video tapes and voice recorders in the room, but eyewitnesses may still report a black Bugatti at the scene of the battle. You’ll be more obscured if you’re in my trailer.” Jazz had complied, but Koji could swear the car had parked itself almost mournfully. As Magnus had accelerated away – calmly, as if completely uninvolved with the carnage – the first police cars had arrived.

Much of the trip had passed in silence. Jazz had given up trying to communicate after the first 10 minutes, finally realising the child wanted some time to himself. Koji, meanwhile, had struggled with the churning emotions in his head. He glanced at the middle-aged man “driving” Ultra Magnus.

 _Wiping cameras, pretending to be cars, pretending to be children… even pretending to have people behind the wheel,_ he thought. _And these Autobots are supposed to be the good guys? How can they be, when all they do is lie all the time? If these Terrorcons are so dangerous, shouldn’t the world know about them?_ Something cold and oily settled in his stomach. _My Mom and Dad were a big part of this lie. And they’ve been lying to me my whole life. I’m caught up in it, too._

They’d driven out of the city and headed north, toward the mountain and its ski resorts. The suburbs through which they passed existed in relative harmony with the rugged surrounds – the city’s fathers had done a good job merging the demands of society with the needs of the environment. If any of the locals thought it strange to see such a large car carrier in their neighbourhood, they weren’t obvious about it. Koji got the feeling they’d seen Magnus pass by their doors many a time. His suspicion was confirmed when one man waved at the holographic driver, and it waved and smiled back. _They probably think he lives in the area,_ Koji sniffed. _More lies from the “good guys”._

A few minutes later, Magnus turned down an archaic freeway. The road was all but abandoned save for parked machinery and digging equipment. It had probably ferried eager tourists once but, now, was little more than a glorified maintenance track. A sign proclaimed it to be “the original road to the base of the mountain, home of the world’s first ski lift”. Koji knew that claim had been disputed enough times over the years – one of the girls in his class had lost marks supporting it in an essay. Whatever the truth of the road, it carried Koji and the Autobots to the very base of the mountain and the solid rock wall at which he was now staring.

Magnus accelerated, and Koji’s throat went dry. “Holographic wall,” he said again, this time with less confidence. “Guys? That’s not actually rock, right?”

“Oh no, it’s rock,” Jazz replied.

Koji opened his mouth to protest, but a sudden bump from beneath silenced him. He barely had time to register that the car carrier was airborne before it slammed, head-first, into the unyielding dirt and stone of the mountain. He squeezed his eyes shut…

… and opened them again to find himself hanging in space.

It was the most bizarre sensation of his young life – like watching “bullet time” from those old _Matrix_ movies from within. He was inside Ultra Magnus’ cab, and Ultra Magnus was _inside_ the rock. Not crushed between it but within it, as if the robot’s molecules shared the same space as that of the mountain. They were moving in a fast drift, like being pulled in a riptide, and while he could peer out the windows Koji could see nothing but stone.

“And there’s a fossil to the left,” Jazz said as if reading his thoughts. “One of the highlights of the trip.”

The experience lasted just a few seconds but felt like minutes. Even his breath seemed to hang in mid air and roll away from him, as if it had condensed into a bubble. There was the sudden feeling of being stretched, extended past his skin, and then they were back in daylight.

Staring at something that made absolutely no sense at all.

Ahead of them was a massive lake filled with clear blue water. From it rose four steel-grey pillars, that supported a city. It stretched hundreds of metres taller again – massive dark blue skyscrapers set above red, grey and black ramps. Cockpits and garage areas were sketched out in neon green, while golden lights flickered across the towers. A large Autobot symbol dominated the central spire which was complemented, on one side, by crimson anti-aircraft guns. A red ramp extended from the base of the middle tower and stretched out into mid air, ending in a sheer drop.

“Welcome back to Fortress Maximus, home of the Autobot Earthforce,” Jazz said brightly. “If it helps any, you were born in the med-bay – that’s in tower two, which is on your right as you’re looking at it.”

It didn’t help. Not one bit.

\-----

She turned the wheel harshly and, not for the first time, Franklin remembered how his partner had earned her nickname. The yellow Dodge Viper went into a spin, turning 180 degrees and sliding into a spot right by the kerb. “Junko” had done it again.

 _She must actually like this car,_ Franklin thought to himself. _She didn’t write it off with that move, unlike the last four the department bought for her. Doesn’t make her any less careless, though… or any less fearless._

He climbed out – quietly thankful to be back on solid ground – and wondered if she’d accept his offer to drive back to the office. Not likely… he always offered, she always refused. Still, that was part of the reason they were so effective as a duo – he was calm, restrained and willing to work from the background while Junko was “out there” taking charge, kicking and screaming at the bad guys. It was a difference reflected in their appearance – Franklin with his ebony skin, navy blue pinstripe suit and dark glasses; Junko with her porcelain complexion, bright blue hair, floor-length red trench coat and scarlet pants suit.

“More talking cars and giant robots?” she snapped.

Franklin winced. This was a bone of contention between them. Junko wasn’t so arrogant that she refused to believe _something_ was happening on the streets; she just wasn’t ready to subscribe to any extra-terrestrial theories. She was ready to lay the blame at the feet of terrorists – most likely a hill-dwelling extremist group – or an organised crime capo with money to burn and a flair for the dramatic. Franklin _knew_ she was wrong, but wasn’t willing to share his proof with her for fear of being ridiculed.

 _My “evidence” alone isn’t enough,_ he reminded himself. _When we finally catch up with one of these robots, then I’ll make her understand._

They moved through the ruins of the science centre, carefully noting impact zones and blast damage. As per usual, all the cameras had been wiped, and the tell-tale shards of a silver ball were in the middle of the auditorium. “Lots of people this time,” Franklin said lightly. “They’ll have seen it.”

“They’ll have seen _something_ ,” Junko replied, her tone clipped.

Franklin shrugged, changing direction and walking toward the makeshift interview room. The local police had brought in a trailer, around which were corralled the journalists who’d attended the aborted press conference. They’d all watched as Dr Jones and her husband had been abducted. The important couple’s knowledge of energy resources and alternative power would be useful to any number of less-than-savoury types. Junko felt “the giant robot thing” would be some kind of mass-hysteria designed to disguise the real perpetrators. Franklin disagreed.

At least, he did usually.

“A condor,” one wide-eyed reporter said. “And a jaguar. Well, maybe a jaguar – a really big cat, anyway. But they weren’t just metal… they had _flesh_ on them, too, like cyborgs or something!”

Junko raised a blue eyebrow. “Uh huh,” she said. Quietly, Franklin despaired. Every other report the office had fielded involved cars, trucks and military vehicles – not robotic animals. This was something of a blow to his theories. Based on experience though they were, Franklin’s beliefs weren’t broad enough for robotic alien fauna.

All the eye-witnesses reported the same thing, and Franklin had to concede defeat. Whatever had happened in the science centre, it had nothing to do with his “pet project”. It was far more likely Junko’s right-wing survivalists had kidnapped the good doctor so they could better power their “engines of liberation” or whatever. There was nothing left to do but go through the list of witness names and take the usual precautions.

Journalists, Franklin had found, were a very easy group to manipulate. Those that couldn’t be threatened into keeping their mouths shut were very easily blackmailed. For purveyors of truth, they each had a heck of a lot of secrets they wanted to stay buried. There was only one real recalcitrant, one person unwilling to get with the program… the wide-eyed man they’d first spoken to.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” Junko had asked, and Franklin nodded sadly. He watched as she walked up behind the man and put one hand on his shoulder. Though he couldn’t see from this distance, Franklin knew the small needle in her thumb ring would have dug into the man’s flesh, pumping him full of an extremely potent drug. Within seconds, he’d believe whatever it was Junko wanted him to, and have no clear recollection of his actual memories. Useful stuff but, in large doses, it could case brain damage.

Franklin shuddered, but kept his resolve. It was ugly _and_ necessary. The last thing anyone – especially the government – needed was panic on the streets. The media had done enough of that a decade ago when the Towers fell, and had helped to drive a costly and messy war. No sense letting that mistake be repeated.

\-----

A diode on Ultra Magnus’ dashboard started to flash. It pulsed gently and silently as they drove to the edge of the lake. The crystal waters started to churn and heave – seconds later, a bridge rose from the deceptive depths. Angled at 45 degrees, it quickly linked the edge of the red sky ramp to the spongy shores of the lake, permitting them access to the lofty city.

They reached the top of the ramp and pulled off to the left. Magnus rumbled to a halt near the edge of the flat, parade ground area and opened his door. Koji climbed down, as the Autobots reclaimed their robot forms.

 _Their true forms,_ Koji thought. _Or are they? Do they even know themselves?_

He tried to push such thoughts away and rely on his mother – she’d not have sent him with the robots if she had any doubts about them. Koji had to trust her, even though she was gone, and rely on this bunch of strangers to help get her back. And, even if it meant giving up his normal life, he promised himself he’d stay with the Autobots for the sake of saving his parents.

“You’ll still have to go to school,” Magnus said, interrupting his reverie. “And do all the normal things you do – meet with friends, go shopping, whatever. One of the RID units will take you back and forth as need be.” He smiled gently. “The most important thing right now is that your routine _looks_ normal, so that no one decides to follow you to figure out what’s going on. Once we find your aunt, it’ll be less of a concern.”

 _He must live in a near-constant state of paranoia,_ Koji thought.

“You want me to live a normal life, and I’m standing here in a city in a clearing in the middle of a mountain range,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve got to say, Ultra Magnus, that if this is your idea of keeping a low profile it’s pretty stupid. You might get away with this sort of thing in, say, the Alaskan wilderness, but you’re on the edge of a city! How long is it going to be before someone flies over, looks down and says ‘oh, look, a bunch of giant talking robots are living down there’?”

Magnus’ gentle grin broadened with amusement. “It hasn’t happened any time in the last decade, and it’s unlikely to happen soon,” he said. “This place isn’t visible from the air…”

“Even the best stealth system can be cracked,” Koji interrupted, trying to sound knowledgeable.

“… because it doesn’t actually exist,” Magnus finished smoothly, ignoring him. “This clearing, this city, has been shifted one second out of phase with the rest of the world. It’s a little complicated, but the easiest way to explain it is that the city exists in the second before you see it and the second after you’ve arrived, but not the second in which you’re standing. It’s always ahead of you or behind you, temporally. You can’t run fast enough to see it, nor slow down long enough to walk through it, without passing through the mountainside.”

Koji’s eyes glazed over. “That’s why we went through the mountain,” he ventured hesitantly, “because it’s a portal that… time-shifts you?"

Magnus nodded, looking like a pleased teacher. “Anyone who flies over sees an empty clearing. Anyone who goes hiking through this spot passes through open grassland and sunny lakeside views. Unless you pass through that _exact_ spot in the mountain – and have circuits wired to pick up the displacement signal…”

“You’re gonna crash into the rock,” Jazz laughed.

“Hang on,” said Koji, waving his hands. “You’ve developed a way to pass, immaterially, through the rest of the world and have it ghost through you. So why turn into cars and trucks, then? Why not just use it all the time so no one knows you’re here?”

“Two reasons,” Jazz said. “Number one, it’s a localised effect. We’re kinda lucky we can make it work over an area this big. It ain’t going to work for all units constantly moving around.”

“And two,” Magnus joined in, “being ‘ghosts’ would prevent us helping people.” He pointed toward the central tower. “Come on,” he smiled, “you should meet the others, and then we can get you settled.”

Much of the central tower was taken up by a ruby elevator. They rode it up to the very top, passing numerous levels – including what looked like a detention centre – on the way. The elevator stopped at a control room – the neon green “cockpit” Koji had glimpsed from below – that overlooked the rear of the base. “It’s backwards,” the boy quipped.

“Only when it’s a city,” Jazz said mysteriously, and winked.

Koji scanned around, taking note of his surrounds. Everything had a greenish hue, thanks to the “glass” above, but he could clearly make out the robots sitting at various consoles and displays. The closest mech was short, boxy and blue. He was tapping nonchalantly at a keyboard, sighing loudly to himself. “Sure, we survived _this_ time,” he moaned, “but I’m pretty convinced that if the kid pulls a stunt like that again, we’re scrap.”

A tall, red and gold robot on the other side of the room turned around. “The ‘kid’ has a name, Armourhide,” he snapped. “And, in case it escaped your notice, it worked!”

“Yeah, it sure did,” chimed in a third robot. This one was bulked-up with thick green and black body armour. At the moment, his chassis was coated with crusty mud. Two ear-like appendages on the sides of his head flashed as he spoke. “But using your forearm blasters to trigger a mini-landslide isn’t really th’ best way to snuff a forest fire, Rodimus. Quickest, sure, but not the best.”

The red and gold Autobot – Rodimus – threw up his hands. “It was an uninhabited area, Downshift,” he protested. “That’s why we were in robot form! And none of the trees got knocked over… not _really_ … and the dust wasn’t _that_ bad…”

Armourhide clucked disapprovingly. “Destiny of a great leader, processor of a binary load lifter,” he sneered. “This is what the Autobot race has to look forward to. We’re all gonna die.”

“Stow that kind of talk – all o’ ya,” came a commanding voice. For the first time, Koji noticed the chair at the back of the control centre. It was raised – attached to a central pillar from behind – and surrounded by monitor banks. “Ain’t no cause for each to be snappin’ at t’other. The job’s done, the people are safe an’ the fire’s out. Best o’ all, nobody saw nothin’ – means we’re doing it right.”

He looked up at the incongruous sight. The robot giving the rest their orders, the owner of the voice that gave them all pause, was the smallest among them. He was a very squat, almost geeky-looking mechanoid with a thick visor, angular blue armour and long missiles strapped to his back.

“Nicely done, Scattorshot,” Magnus said as he walked across to the little robot. He was so tall that his face was almost level with the floating chair. Scattorshot beamed with the praise but said nothing, turning his attention back to the view screens. His entire posture screamed _I’m thrilled but I’m working, and that comes first._

Koji did a quick count – six. “Aren’t there seven of these… ROD units, or whatever?” he asked Jazz.

“RID,” the Bugatti corrected. “Research, Infiltration and Defence. Politically correct way of saying ‘alien robots in your ‘hood, handling the stuff that’s too big for your police, fire fighters, armed forces and coast guard’.” He smiled proudly. “That’s what we do, why we’re here. We figure we owe your planet a debt after all the times we put it in danger fighting the Decepticons.”

“Terrorcons.”

“No, _Decepticons,_ ” Jazz corrected again. “They were the main ‘big bad’ during the war. Back then the Terrorcons were, like, a _unit_ within the ‘con army, but they split off on their own after a big battle on Cybertron – that’s our home planet.” He frowned. “Ain’t nobody heard from the ‘cons – either flavour, normal or beastie – in, oh, 10 years or so. That’s why this is so weird.”

“But,” Koji muttered, “you said there were seven. So who’s…”

Magnus rapped his knuckles on a console. “Earthforce, fall in,” he said. Each of the Autobots rose from their stations and gathered around him. Scattorshot stayed in his chair – Koji saw the yellow discs on his forehead swivel toward the screens while his visor focused on his leader.

“Jazz and I ran into some old friends today,” he said, one hand lightly gesturing to the scars on their armour. “Divebomb, Battle Ravage, Skid-Z and a mech yet to be identified. Even so, it appears the Terrorcons have opened up business here on Earth.”

The reactions of the group surprised Koji. Scattorshot shivered slightly, his composure breaking for just a moment. A faraway look filled Downshift’s optics and he turned his back. Armourhide sighed loudly, covering his face with one steely grey hand. Rodimus, by contrast, stood taller and seemed to smile. _Maybe he’s looking forward to shooting something other than dirt,_ Koji wondered inwardly.

“I know this is the last thing any of us expected when we signed up,” Magnus continued, “but I’m confident we’re more than equal to the task. In any event we don’t have a lot of choice – the Terrorcons have Kicker and Misha, which is why Koji’s back with us.”

“The little rugrat!” Armourhide cried, and Koji realised it was meant to be a term of endearment. “Welcome back, squirt.” Downshift elbowed him. “Oh, uh,” he added, “sorry t’hear about yer folks. But we’ll get ‘em back real quick. Right, fellas?”

The Autobots chorused with agreement.

Time passed, but much of it was a blur to Koji. The RID units talked amongst themselves, referencing “the Impossibles” and something called Animatros”. There was a call to somewhere else – maybe Cybertron – made, and information exchanged. He got the impression Magnus was less than pleased with the results of that call, but was too tired to press for further information. His head hurt, his stomach ached and his face felt dry from crying too much. When Scattorshot lightly tapped him on the shoulder, he realised he’d fallen asleep propped against the pillar of the command chair.

He wasn’t sure which one of his new “housemates” scooped him up and carried him back to the elevator – Jazz, he would later assume. Whoever-it-was took him to a human-sized living area several floors below the control centre. Something in his memory stirred, despite his sleepiness. Was this the place he’d spent the first two years of his life? He could see, dream-like, his father cooking at the stove top, his mother hunched over the now-dusty desktop computer. If this was his former home, then the Autobots hadn’t touched it since he and his parents had moved out.

Koji blacked out for a moment – tiredness overwhelming him – and half-woke as he was being slipped under a set of plush covers. A mechanical voice wished him goodnight and he rolled over, toward the window, and started to drift into sleep proper. _It can wait until the morning,_ he told himself, dismissing his thousands of worries and concerns. _Tomorrow we’ll start looking for Mom and Dad, and this will all get straightened out. After some sleep, it’ll be a lot simpler._

His eyes drooped and his heavy lids started to close over. The last thing he saw was a speck of brilliant ivory gleaming against the jet-black sky. As the static in his mind faded to black, and sleep took him, he thought he heard a wolf howling at the moon.


End file.
